


A Running Leap

by Samirant



Series: nothing stronger than a heart [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Birthday Gift Fic, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Marriage of Convenience, Mutual Pining, NIIIIIIIIIIIRE, Oathfam, ba dum tss, freely given sequel, the marg and jaime show, unconscionable abuse of italics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:35:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24364405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samirant/pseuds/Samirant
Summary: Jaime Lannister thinks he knows best. Sometimes, heactually doesknow best.Margaery Tyrell will never,evertell him that.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Sansa Stark/Margaery Tyrell
Series: nothing stronger than a heart [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607014
Comments: 54
Kudos: 186





	A Running Leap

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nire/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY NIRE!
> 
> Just think, you could have gotten this on May 8th if you hadn't corrected my inaccurate knowledge of your birthday. :*
> 
> For those who haven't read Freely Given, it's my behemoth of a drama that includes Brienne as a surrogate-turned-mom after Renly and Loras tragically pass and how she strikes up a relationship with her ridiculous neighbor Jaime. Margaery gets roped in for the ride, but she needed her own story and Nire wanted a fake marriage fic, so here they are together!

Moving in with Margaery was relatively simple, all things considered. 

Sansa had been hanging around the apartment for months. _Apartments_ , actually, since the Tyrell-Tarth-Lannister brood considered the main corridor just as much a part of their shared living space. Pod took his first steps between the two doorways; Margaery filmed his wobbling from Jaime to Brienne while Sansa cheered them on in the background. The resulting video was one of Margaery’s most popular posts, which was saying something. 

By the time Margaery waved a hand around and said, _just live with me, it’s not a problem_ , Sansa knew where to find the spare keys, the corkscrew that always managed to go missing and the backup to Pod’s favorite lovie.

The apartment officially owned by Margaery had a newly emptied room; Brienne and Pod had just moved all the way across the hall to where Jaime waited impatiently. No one blinked twice when Sansa joined in with everyone else to transform Jaime’s former bachelor pad into a space for two adults, one toddler and a growing number of pets. It was a given that she would join them for dinner, where there was a chair just for her, set between Margaery and Brienne.

She babysat Pod when everyone else was busy. Margaery was the person she found that she could talk to about almost anything. Brienne stocked her favorite lemon seltzer simply because she observed that Sansa liked it. They attended her university graduation and Jaime baked her a celebratory cake that was only a little dry. When she thought of home and King's Landing, Sansa thought of their little family and of the place they’d carved out just for her. 

But Margaery was the youngest of them and still five years older than Sansa. Jaime, well, he had an oft-recited history with her Aunt Lysa that Sansa suspected wasn’t entirely accurate, but she never asked about it. The only reason she'd met Brienne was because she’d needed Catelyn Stark’s legal counsel. No one understood why Sansa remained friends with the lot of them after all was said and done.

Correction: Sansa’s _mother_ didn’t understand it. Her father was quietly mystified in his acceptance and Robb constantly angled for a ride-along so he could make a pass at Margaery. Arya was taking a semester abroad in Braavos and didn’t care either way; Bran and Rickon were just as predictably ambivalent. 

“Have you spoken with your mother?” Brienne was two style-driven choices away from being a total bruiser. Slick back her hair and provoke her into a frown and she would have been terrifying. Instead she dangled a set of plastic car keys on a ring above Pod’s head, softly laughing when he swiped them and started gleefully chewing away. Motherhood was a good look on her - it was a _great_ look and it made Sansa’s heart go all squishy to see Pod’s answering gummy smile. 

“She called the provost yesterday and tried to get me reinstated,” Sansa replied as she neatly filled drawers with her socks and underwear. “Never mind that I dropped out with my sense fully intact. She’s convinced that I’ve been led astray.”

Brienne didn’t look as if she didn’t want to ask, but did anyway. “By Jaime or Margaery?”

“Both, most likely.” It was definitely mostly Jaime, but Brienne didn’t need to hear that, especially since Sansa believed that Catelyn’s determination to hate him was born of a massive misunderstanding. She didn’t know her aunt very well, but it was generally known that Lysa hadn’t ever been quite… stable. Jaime was a lot of things, but it felt unfair to blame him for Lysa’s intrinsic troubles. 

Sansa continued emptying her suitcases. “Though it has a lot to do with the fact that I’m not following in her footsteps like she’s always expected. I can’t blame her, really. I thought I would, too.”

Sansa had begun to doubt the path in front of her during her first semester at law school, never mind that she’d trailed after Catelyn in the Winterfell home offices for years, had taken on the mantle of legal assistant during summers off from school. By the end of her second semester, however, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing discontent in her stomach. It was no longer a game, a fun pastime with her mother and the thought of pursuing law for herself was… depressing. 

Jaime was a _little_ to blame in this case. He’d heard her out, shrugged and said it so simply: _If it doesn’t make you happy, quit._

It hadn’t been that easy for her. She’d gone home to give it one last summer try and felt more certain than ever before a single week was out. Sansa perhaps didn’t know _what_ she wanted, but she knew the law wasn’t it. 

Which brought her here, to Margaery’s apartment for what should have been a brief visit that instead became a roommate situation when Catelyn Stark laid out an ultimatum: go back to school or Sansa was on her own. Sansa chose the latter and it was terrifying and gut-wrenching and-

And it was _exhilarating._

“Welcome to the club.” Solemnity didn’t suit Jaime well, but he valiantly tried for it a couple days later when she ended yet another call with her mother, cutting off her angry tears and transparent guilt trips. It felt more final than any of the arguments that had come before and it left Sansa shaken. 

“The Catelyn Stark Nemesis Club?” Margaery suggested.

“The Former Silver Spoon Club?” Brienne had gotten snarkier the longer she was with Jaime; he glared at her, but all of them knew he liked it. Margaery lifted a hand and Brienne gave her a high five.

Pod shrieked from his high chair and Sansa could only guess at what he was trying to say to rile up his dad. Jaime tousled Pod’s overgrown curls - Brienne couldn’t bear to cut them off yet, and rightfully so, he was adorable - and put on a lofty voice to say, “The You Can Make It On Your Own Club.” 

“You had a trust fund,” Margaery scoffed. “Literal millions stashed away and millions more combined with Tyrion’s. Wow, how you suffered.”

“Could you just…” Jaime rolled his eyes and turned firmly in Sansa’s direction. “Safety net or not, it’s hard to do. I’m glad you did.”

“Nemesis,” Margaery sing-songed into her coffee mug. 

“I am her nemesis, she is not mine,” Jaime insisted.

Margaery’s deep brown eyes glinted and, as sad as Sansa felt for disappointing her mother, she was amused by it. Margaery had a way of making even the most awful things more palatable. She’d gamely held Sansa’s hand after Harry-the-twat-Hardyng proved himself a cad by getting caught in bed with another girl. It was by her side that Sansa realized that to give in to anymore tears over that buttface was a waste. Margaery made everything better, so easily.

“You’re enjoying this anyway, aren’t you?” Margaery asked him. 

Jaime, very tellingly, did not answer.

“Stay as long as you need,” Margaery encouraged her when their visitors returned to the menagerie on the other side of the hall. She was so lovely and graceful and warm and Sansa couldn’t understand why Catelyn held such a grudge against her, too. Sure, Margaery made a career off of social media, but she wasn’t shallow or vapid. Her seven part series on loss, grief and mental health had won a Westeros Webby! That had to give her at least a _little_ leeway when it came to her videos on which brand of leggings made her bottom look its very best. 

(Sansa said it was the first choice when Margaery asked; she’d been pleased when Margaery nodded with satisfaction and agreed.)

“Just remember that Jaime and Brienne are in and out often enough, and so is Pod,” Margaery warned, as if Sansa hadn’t been witness to their meandering back and forth between the apartments for the past year and change. “And for gods’ sake, if you’re taking Pod back to them, knock and wait _at least_ a minute before you go in.”

“A minute?” Sansa started to laugh and cut herself off when she saw Margaery’s face. Her normally coolly-amused expression had been replaced by something vaguely haunted, as if she’d come out of a battle worse for wear. 

“Pod’s too young to remember,” Margaery said hollowly, “but you will _never_ forget.”

###### 

Jaime: so

Jaime: roommates now huh

Margaery: Don‘t start. We’re friends. 

Jaime: minute rule works but you can use a sock on the doorknob im a fan of the classics

Margaery: Friends. Just friends. 

Jaime: i used to be just friends with someone

Jaime: think you know her

Margaery: Yes, of course I do. 

Jaime: starts with a b

Margaery: I get it Jaime, it’s Brienne. 

Jaime: ends with rienne

Margaery: I said I get it. 

Jaime: brienne talking about my old pal brienne 

Margaery: Gee, wow, who would have guessed?

Jaime: brienne tarth

###### 

They settled into a rhythm easily enough and Sansa was thankful for the time she had to figure out her next move. She scoured job listings and contacted her old undergrad program to see if she could audit any courses. It was helpful that she’d graduated in such good standing because they gave her freedom to roam the campus and sit in on all the electives that had once intrigued her but been branded as unnecessary by She Who Controlled the Pursestrings.

Occasionally, Sansa worried when it came to what she owed for rent and meals; it was mildly horrifying, having to rely on someone else so completely. Margaery dashed it away by thoughtfully saying, “Loras got lucky, our grandmother let him explore and he was happier for it. I’d like to think he’s enjoying that you’re getting the same chance.”

There really wasn’t a sound rebuttal to the Dead Brother card, so Sansa meekly accepted the help and kept moving along. 

A major challenge came from an otherwise darling source. What had been a brief bout of sniffles for Pod turned into a week of misery for Sansa, leaving her unable to breathe through one nostril or the other, depending on which of them held the snot baton of doom. Severe tension headaches followed and soon enough she felt like her head would implode from the pressure. It got so bad that Brienne forced her to visit an urgent care for treatment. The steroid shot was effective and painful, but not nearly as painful as the bill.

“I… this is _nonsense,_ ” Sansa said passionately when she saw the thousands of dragons waiting to be paid in full. “I saw the maester for five minutes! How is healthcare so expensive?” 

“Is it?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne covered Jaime’s mouth with her hand and helpfully offered, “We’ll call the billing department and see how much they can take off since you’re uninsured, then you can set up payments. It’ll work out, Sansa.”

Their assistance made a world of difference. The discovery that her mother hadn’t seen cutting off her allowance as enough of a punishment, but had also booted Sansa off the family insurance plan altogether, however, still stung. Sansa had been relishing her newfound freedom so much that her job search had fallen by the wayside and now there was a literal price to pay. 

“Is it too late to quit the club?” Sansa miserably asked Jaime.

Brienne still wouldn’t let him speak, so Jaime just shrugged in commiseration. 

“I have a proposal,” Margaery said later that night, slowly and quietly from where she stood at Sansa’s doorway. “An actual proposal, rather.”

Sansa was lying flat on her stomach, her face buried in the comforter. Her answering mumble of _yeah?_ went unanswered, so she raised her hand and invited Margaery’s suggestion.

Sansa’s head popped up a second later when Margaery’s detailed offer darted through her dull slog of a pity party. 

“Are you serious?” Sansa asked.

“It’ll help you and I’m sure I can make it work for my brand if it gets out. But we can keep it under wraps if you’d rather,” Margaery replied. Her smile ticked up on one side, sly and calculating. “And just imagine how much it’ll piss your mother off if she finds out.”

Sansa bit down on a smile as a frisson of excitement ran through her. It was absurd, it was probably dangerous-

It was a _proposal._

Moving in with Margaery had been relatively simple; surely marriage would be, too.

###### 

Jaime: so who am i giving away

Margaery: Yourself. Give yourself away and out the door.

Jaime: thats rude

Jaime: ive been listening to your sighing and whining for months over her

Jaime: shes so pretty jaime shes so sweet shes so gileless whateverthefuck that means

Margaery: Guileless. 

Jaime: 😁

Margaery: Shut up.

Jaime: i suddenly realize what i put tyrion through

Jaime: and oberyn and ellaria

Margaery: AND ME NOW SHUT UP

Jaime: ill have peck send them apology wine 

Jaime: i can settle for ringbearer

Margaery: Pod is the ring bearer.

Jaime: since brienne is the flower girl, i will be bearing pod hence ringbearer by default

Margaery: By Default, the Jaime Lannister Story

Jaime: ….

Jaime: ….

Jaime: ….

Margaery: Stop pouting, it’s unbecoming.

Jaime: ….

Margaery: Don’t. You. Dare.

###### 

It felt bizarre to say that she and Margaery got married on a Wednesday morning. They _did_ get married and Wednesday _was_ the day in question, but to call it a wedding suggested the idea that it was a lavish ceremony, the kind she’d dreamed of since she was a little girl.

What it turned out to be was her and Margaery standing in line for a piece of paper in the King’s Landing courthouse. Seeing as they agreed that white should be reserved for _real_ weddings, Sansa wore a simple gray sheath that looked almost silver in the right light. Margaery had on a filmy green jumpsuit with a deep V in the back; her scapulae shifted under smooth, unblemished skin and Sansa fought the urge to run her fingertips over them. 

It made her nerves flare up all over again, so she pulled Margaery to an empty side corridor and checked one more time. “Still up for this?”

Margaery shook back her long curls, the jewels hanging from her ears and dangling from her slender neck, sparkling. She had that effect, mesmerizing Sansa’s attention with a stray glance or elegant motion, no matter their environment. Even here, in a wood panelled hallway with garish yellow-tinged fluorescent lighting, she looked every bit the modern bride and Sansa had never seen her look more beautiful.

Sansa had to shake off the fantasy of a real wedding with real love in order to catch Margaery’s response of, “Absolutely, you?”

“Yes?” Sansa tried not to squirm in place, especially when Margaery‘s hands smoothed over her shoulders. It was all she could do to keep from drifting forward when Margaery pulled back and crossed her hands over her stomach. 

Margaery arched up a single eyebrow. 

“I am,” Sansa said with more certainty. “I only feel like I’m asking too much-”

“I offered,” Margaery broke in. “I know this isn’t how you thought you’d get married” - not entirely, Sansa admitted inwardly, but kept silent - “but to me, marriage isn’t... It’s just a tool. Anyone can do it and lots of people who do, shouldn’t bother. It’s what my family has used to join companies or cement alliances. Loras marrying for love, that was an anomaly as much as for the fact that he married a man.”

“You don’t want to marry for love?” Sansa asked with deliberate lightness. 

“At this point, I’ll be satisfied to beat my grandmother’s record - two more marriages after this and I’ll be well on my way to filling her shoes.” A sharp grin flitted across Margaery’s face and faded just as suddenly. “I know you imagined something different. I’m still surprised you agreed.”

“Everything is different now.” Sansa shrugged and glanced aside. “After everything that has happened, I see the value in marrying my friend for both our benefits rather than waiting around for some mystical perfect match.”

“You still could,” Margaery replied softly. 

“I could,” Sansa agreed and reached out to squeeze Margaery’s hand. “But maybe I want to follow in Olenna’s footsteps, too. She certainly looks like she’s had a good time so far.”

Margaery laughed and squeezed their hands again. “That she has. Ready?”

“Ready.”

Fifteen minutes later, they signed with individual flourishes to become a married pair in the eyes of the law. They declined to trade rings, but exchanged secretly playful smiles when they were pronounced wife and wife. 

Pod squealed, and Jaime and Brienne signed alongside as witnesses and then the whole matter got a stamp of legal recognition and… that was it. She was married. To Margaery. 

“You can get as sick as you want now,” Margaery said as she looped their arms together at the elbow. “My provider is excellent and my copay non-existent.”

Sansa pretended to swoon and Margaery laughed brightly. 

The five of them trooped into one of the city’s fancier restaurants for brunch, where they were shown into a cozy private room that had an array of flower arrangements on the table, cloth napkins and fragile tableware. Brienne carefully moved a set far from Pod’s grasping hands, leaving him with a spoon that he happily banged against the tabletop, its noise eliciting a wince from the maitre’d. 

Jaime charmed away the other man’s tight smile by being, well, very Jaime. He gladhanded and ordered the most expensive bottle of champagne for everyone to toast the newlyweds, then set on a long, rambling speech on how he’d come to love Margaery as an _irritating, exasperating, vexing, contrary, headstrong-_

“Are you quite done?” Margaery asked, her mouth twisted in a frown that kept jerking up at the corners. Try as she might, Margaery couldn’t hide the fact that Jaime easily wriggled under her skin despite her best efforts to deny him and it made Sansa flush with affection for them both. 

“-little sister I never wanted, but got stuck with anyway and I guess I’m kind of glad to have her,” Jaime finished and raised his glass in a toast, as if they were a real couple, a pair that had married for love and not for enviable insurance benefits and a substantial tax break. “May you find the same happiness that I have with Brienne.”

“Despite your fuck ups, you did manage that,” Margaery admitted and took a deep swallow from her flute. Sansa watched, transfixed, as Margaery licked the champagne away from her lips and took a hasty sip of her own when Margaery looked back in her direction. “Have I told you the story of how Jaime confessed his love for Brienne and then immediately ran away across the country like a coward?”

She had, but Sansa was unable to say that she’d heard the story many times - especially when Margaery wanted to needle Jaime for one slight or another - because Jaime cut her off with, “Funny you should mention it, because you never, _ever_ do, but is going across the country all that bad? It certainly helped us.”

“Here we go,” Brienne sighed out. 

Margaery gave them both a suspicious look. “What?”

“I want to state, for the record, that I had nothing to do with this,” Brienne informed her. 

“Yes, I will take all the credit, I am perfectly fine with that,” Jaime said happily.

“What did you do, Lannister?” The warning in Margaery’s voice was clear, but Jaime kept an insistently smug grin on his face as he pulled an envelope from his suit jacket and slid it across the table. 

“We all know what this is,” Jaime remarked and grinned more widely when Margaery glowered at him. “But that doesn’t mean that the two of you can’t take a trip to celebrate your… arrangement.”

“You’d know arrangements, wouldn’t you?” Margaery muttered. She tore open the envelope, huffed loudly when she saw what it contained, and passed it over to Sansa. 

“Go, enjoy the sun and the sights, take pictures to post if you ever decide to let your lemmings know that you’re official- legally taken,” Jaime told them both. Sansa’s eyebrows shot high when she saw what he’d gifted them: two first class tickets to Lannisport and a reservation for a one week stay in one of the most exclusive beachside resorts in the area. It was the kind of place that her parents would have called ostentatious. Well, that wasn’t saying much, really.

“This is too much, Jaime,” Margaery protested. That was certainly more indicative of the gift’s excessiveness, if a _Tyrell_ thought it was over the top. Sansa reluctantly nodded along, squashing down the uninvited, speedily-formed fantasies of walking along the beach at sunset, of fancy rooms with plush robes that were perfect for cuddling and stunning views of the western seas from a private balcony.

Margaery was still talking, though. “We can take photos around here and that would be fine, it’s not as if we’re planning to publicize it in the first place. You didn’t have to do this.”

Jaime shrugged off the arguments and Sansa’s treasonous hopes jumped high into her throat. “It’s just a suite, nothing special. My aunt owns the place, let’s say I got a family discount.”

“Lannisters don’t do discounts,” Margaery said flatly. “It’s your whole… thing.”

“She was willing to play ball when I mentioned that maybe she’d finally get to meet her grand-nephew,” Jaime admitted, to which Brienne exclaimed his name and he gave her a sheepish grin. “We were planning on it anyway, why not get something out of it?”

Brienne threw her head back and groaned. 

Later, as they exited the restaurant, Jaime leaned in toward Sansa and said, “Don’t tell Brienne, but I also got us a trip for the late summer when Pod goes with Olenna for a few days. Let me know if it’s really as romantic as they claim it is.”

“That’s not… really…” Sansa faltered when Jaime smirked and she acutely, deeply empathized with all the times Margaery threatened to tear her - or, more often, Jaime’s - hair out in response to his ridiculousness. Glancing over to where Brienne was trying to take a photo of Margaery snuggling Pod in her arms, Sansa lowered her voice and said, “Please don’t tell her. Please. It’ll make everything so awkward.”

Jaime shook his head, laughing to himself. “I swear, I won’t say a word.”

Margaery liked to grumble out _fucking Lannister_ when he was a particular pain in the ass and Sansa found herself saying it only two days later when they checked into the resort. Of course he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. The fact that he’d reserved the _fucking honeymoon suite_ for them said more than enough. 

###### 

Margaery: WHAT DID YOU DO

Jaime: The user you are trying to reach is not available at this time.

Margaery: I AM GOING TO KILL YOU

Jaime: The user you are trying to reach is not available at this time.

Margaery: YOU WILL PAY THIS GODSDAMN DEBT JAIME

Jaime: The user you are trying to reach is not availbler at this time.

Margaery: I can see you typing, jackass and YOU FUCKING MISSPELLED A WORD.

Jaime: 👁👅👁

###### 

Where they’d expected a suite with two separate bedrooms, instead Sansa and Margaery faced down a luxuriously appointed room with an amazing view… and one bed.

“I don’t mind sharing?” Sansa said bracingly. The bed had a heart on it, made purely of red rose petals. Next to it, on a golden stand was a shining ice bucket, its outsides pearling with condensation and a chilled bottle of champagne held within. Sansa tried her best not to think of the last time she’d seen Margaery drink champagne; to get caught up in the image would be disastrous at best. She busied herself with settling in, dragging her luggage off the rack where the bellhop had placed it. She slammed it down onto one side of the heart, upsetting the whole assemblage. “It’s a big bed.”

Margaery looked up from where she was furiously typing into her phone. “What? Oh… yes, it is… a big bed.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, Jaime is such-”

“A jackass?” Sansa finished for her.

It made a smile crack across her previously tight expression. “I’m teaching you so well.”

“It’s not so bad, it’s still a beautiful room and we’ll have plenty of space.”

“Of course,” Margaery agreed and carefully set her phone aside. “What do you say, ready to take in the sights?”

She was and they did, sharing dinner at an incredible restaurant, where at just the mention of their names, they learned that even their meals had been comped. It was harder to stay angry at Jaime after that.

They found a pier on which to walk off their decadent meal and took in an astonishing sunset. Margaery had left her phone behind, so Sansa used her own, stretching out her arm and tilting her head against Margaery’s. The resulting photos were off center, but Margaery’s skin glowed and she was smiling one of her genuine smiles, not the knowing sly slant that typically graced her social media. Sansa felt relieved to see it, that though their friend had played a prank on them, Margaery was still happy to be there, with her. 

They shimmied under the covers together that night and Sansa perused the leatherbound book for all the other activities the resort offered: wakeboarding, riding jet skis, snorkeling, wine tasting, hot air balloons, private tours of a secluded lagoon, the pages went on and on. 

“He was right,” Sansa murmured. If this had been a real honeymoon... 

“What’s that?” Margaery asked sleepily.

“Nothing,” Sansa replied. She set the book aside and turned off the light. “Good night.”

###### 

Margaery: I am so angry with you.

Margaery: I had plans, Jaime. Plans that you upended because you don’t damn well know when to stay out of something. 

Margaery: Maybe you’re perfectly fine with blundering around until something works out, but that’s not me and you’re a real asshole for taking this out of my hands. 

Brienne: Got up to feed Pod and saw Jaime’s phone lighting up, but he’s completely out. Did you need something? Are you all right?

Brienne: He told me what he did and I’m so sorry, I swear I didn’t know about the honeymoon suite.

Margaery: I never thought you did. 

Brienne: He means well, Marg. That doesn’t excuse it, but you must know it comes from a place of love.

Margaery: I know. 

Brienne: I’ve stuck him on diaper duty until you get back, if that helps any.

Margaery: It kind of does. 

Brienne: :)

Margaery: She’s asleep and she looks

Margaery: ….

Margaery: ….

Margaery: I don’t know how to put it into words. Stupid, isn’t it?

Brienne: Not at all.

Margaery: Is that how you feel? With Jaime?

Brienne: At a loss for words? Constantly.

Margaery: gods, I just laughed so hard. Thank you for that. 

Margaery: I should go back to sleep.

Brienne: Me too.

Margaery: Brienne

Brienne: Yes?

Margaery: You know you’re my best friend, right? 

Brienne: And you’re mine.

###### 

There were indeed fluffy robes and Sansa wore one as they split a breakfast of flaky pastries, sweet fruit and the most delicious coffee she’d ever tasted. Perhaps it was the breakfast or the result of a good night’s rest, but Margaery seemed looser and less prone to glaring angrily at her phone, and they ran through the book together, deciding on a bout of shopping in the morning before hitting the beach in the afternoon.

“If Jaime insists on footing the bill for this, let’s really make him feel it, shall we?” Margaery’s smile spread with such vicious glee that Sansa giggled and agreed. 

The excessive number of bags they sent back to their room would surely be enough to make even Jaime Lannister balk. Every time Sansa tried to moderate her choices, Margaery fervently shook her head and added even more. It’s how she ended up with half a new wardrobe and another suitcase to send it home in, as well as a few new swimsuits, one of which stayed in her possession when they headed to the beach.

She and Margaery took shelter under a massive umbrella on the beach, laid out on lounge chairs and lazily called for the ever-prompt service to bring them more drinks and snacks to nibble. Time passed, syrupy slow, as if it too were partaking in all their indulgences, and the sound of waves lulled Sansa into a light doze.

Margaery woke her with a light touch, mouth blissfully close to Sansa’s ear to say, “I’m going in the water, want to join me?”

Sansa hummed and stretched her arms. “Maybe in a bit.”

Margaery answered her with a brief graze of her lips to Sansa’s temple and left without argument. Sansa watched as she waded into the water, ignoring the passing men who tried to catcall her attention. Realizing she was staring again, Sansa pulled out her sunscreen and started to reapply it, knowing from unfortunate experience that she had to be more vigilant than most. Margaery returned just as she finished off her legs and silently took the bottle from her, her cool hands running over Sansa’s back where she couldn’t reach. 

“Back so soon?” Sansa asked, her voice slightly higher than normal.

“Wasn’t so much fun on my own,” Margaery murmured. Her hands swept down Sansa’s spine and it took all she could do to contain a resulting shiver. 

“Give me twenty minutes and I’ll go in,” Sansa offered. 

“Deal.”

Margaery shifted to sit at Sansa’s side, their hips touching as they faced one another. Her brown curls were bound up in a neat twist and drops of water glistened on her skin; Sansa’s mouth went dry - never before had she so wanted to taste the sea on someone else. She jerked her gaze up to look Margaery in the eye, disappointed to find them obscured by dark sunglasses.

Her head was angled down anyway and Margaery reached out, her thumb sliding along Sansa’s collarbone. “A little smear,” she explained quietly and Sansa couldn’t conceal how her breath caught at the light touch, nor the way her nipples went taut despite the warmth of the day.

“Margaery...”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Maragery replied, apropos of nothing. “Not one damn thing. I need you to know that.”

“I owe you everything,” Sansa immediately denied. Margaery was her friend before anything else, had provided her a home, had _married_ her to make her life easier. How could she pretend that it didn’t matter?

Somehow it wasn’t the right thing to say, because Margaery drew back and then returned to her own lounge chair. Her voice was light and casual when she said, “I think I’ll have another Dornish Sunrise, how about you?”

“Sure,” Sansa said faintly, caught in between a ghastly uncertainty and the violent thrum of her heart. 

The first time she saw Margaery in person - not just as a glamorous woman whose wit and charm shone through a computer or phone screen, but alive and more arresting than Sansa could fathom - was when she’d been at Brienne’s side in Catelyn’s temporary office in King's Landing. 

It had been impossible for Sansa to hide her wide-eyed awe. Originally, Brienne was imposing in silence, but became soft-spoken and sorrowful as she recounted how her surrogacy has taken a tragic turn. Margaery was all quiet support and filled in the details when her friend trailed off. 

While Margaery was serene and effortlessly confident in public, her tenderness and concern for Brienne made her more real in Sansa’ eyes. She was so much more than Sansa had ever anticipated and she’d jumped at the chance to get to know them both, her heartstrings tugged by the idea of helping Brienne, but also selfishly in hopes of making a friend out of someone she had long admired from afar. 

Margaery didn’t so much tumble off her pedestal as much as she gracefully sidestepped it. Her warm regard for Brienne has been too great, her affectionate exasperation with Jaime too hilarious. Underlying it all was her quiet grief over losing Loras, and Sansa found that Margaery was so much more than the facade she presented to her legion of online followers. 

Was it really so surprising that her skin deep admiration had turned to love? Sansa supposed not, but she’d considered herself too young, too naive, too… Sansa for Margaery to ever feel the same. Until the moment Margaery’s thumb grazed over her skin, she’d been certain that to Margaery, she was yet another person brought in to fill the hole that Loras had left behind. 

It made her heart nearly stop, stutter and flutter anew to imagine that she was wrong. 

Sansa tried not to show how it weighed on her mind, though it did throughout the remainder of the day. Margaery was all smiles and carefree joy as they splashed in the water and later still when they went to dinner. Sansa tried her best to match it. Nevertheless, she couldn’t shrug off the notion that Margaery was, for once, performing for her. No matter how much Margaery’s tinkling laughter filled the space between them, it didn’t erase that moment where Sansa had felt they’d both been on the brink of something, that Margaery had been watching for her reaction and - foolishly, thoughtlessly - Sansa had missed her cue. 

When they arrived back to their hotel, Margaery proclaimed exhaustion and headed to bed, but Sansa sought solitude in the bath. She played with the spigots, going back and forth between the two until she found the perfect balance and slid in with a sigh. In the quiet, with only the lapping sounds of the water that moved when she did, Sansa considered it and considered it some more. 

Part of her wanted to call Brienne and dissect the whole thing, but it wasn’t really the nature of their friendship. Nor did it feel right to talk to Margaery’s best friend about Margaery herself. Jeyne and Arya were out simply because Sansa had kept the particulars of her infatuation from them. Jaime? She nearly laughed out loud. _Not a chance._

In a small, childish way, she almost wanted to call her mother. 

It crept through her mind, the small thing that had been said to her, turned on its head, inverted and flipped upside down once more: _If it doesn’t make you happy, quit._

Or, more importantly, Sansa had to ask herself: _if it’s going to make you happy, what in the seven hells is stopping you?_

Sansa stood from the bath, the drain gurgling in her wake. Towel clamped under her arms, she crept out to the darkened sitting area and retrieved a few of their newly purchased items. She took it as a good sign that she found what she was looking for in the first bag. After changing, she brushed out her hair until it gleamed in the overhead lights. 

Her stomach was a riot of butterflies, but Sansa stepped out of the bathroom again with purpose. She pulled back the duvet, watching Margaery for any signs of life; she wasn’t sure whether to feel better or worse that it appeared that Margaery was pretending at sleep, her back and shoulders visibly rigid from Sansa’s vantage point. 

Sansa wanted to reach out, to run her finger down the perfectly spaced, gentle hills of Margaery’s spine, then along the lace trim of her chemise. Margaery often wore a variation of one or another in the late evening; Sansa had drunk in the sight a dozen times or more, each time hoping she wasn’t giving away her true feelings. 

She wanted to reach out, but instead lay on her back looking up at the ceiling as she took one steadying breath and then another. Abandoning her usual comfy boxers and oversized shirts seemed a folly now, trading them for a silky cami and matching underwear pure idiocy, but she wanted and she hoped and she’d take anything that could give her a sliver of a chance. 

To run from what she was feeling, from what Margaery might want, too - that had to be worse than not trying at all. 

So she began with, “I do owe you.”

Margaery didn’t say anything. 

“I owe you and I owe Brienne and Jaime and even Pod. Even my mother.” Sansa scoffed lightly. “None of this happened in a vacuum and all of you had your place in it.”

“Go to sleep, Sansa,” Margaery said quietly.

Sansa ignored her. “Yes, I am living with you and right now I’m dependent on you, that is true. If I fell for you after that, I’d question my motives, too. But I didn’t. I think… I _know_ I fell in love with you the first time you held Pod. It was the happiest I’d ever seen you. Your smile lit up the whole room and I wanted it to stay, I wanted to see it forever and ever.”

When Margaery started to turn, Sansa held out her hand, lightly pressing on Margaery’s shoulder to keep her still, before she could bring them face to face. Pulling back her hand, staring at Margaery’s smooth hair that still managed to gleam in the low light of the room, she continued. “Before that happened, I knew I was crazy about you and that I wanted to be around you all the time. And if you think that I quit school to stay near you, don’t. That’s not what happened. I was prepared to go back to Winterfell and figure everything out there. I was ready to miss you for every second of it. Then my mother… and you… I’m grateful that I got to stay, but that wasn’t what made me feel this way.”

“You’ve had a lot of changes recently,” Margaery replied, her voice tightly controlled.

“Yes, and all good,” Sansa rebutted. “ _All good_ , Margaery. I don’t like fighting with my mom, but I’m so much gladder that I’m not blindly following the path she set out for me. If it weren’t for all of you, I would have been miserable for the next ten years of my life before I finally plucked up the courage to do what was right for me.”

“That can’t be true.” 

Sansa shook her head though Margaery couldn’t see it. “I saw all of you face down a horrid situation and come out stronger for it. Perhaps none of you told me what to do in words, but watching the three of you make something good out of something so awful? It was impossible not to try to find it in myself.”

She heard Margaery breathe in and out, once, twice, more. It was a long, torturous minute and then Margaery said, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“You’re not. I promise that you aren’t.” Sansa tried to put all her certainty, every ounce of her complete assuredness into her voice. “Just tell me I’m not kidding myself, that I’m not wrong in thinking that you want to be with me, too.”

Margaery reached out to turn on the bedside lamp, setting a warm glow to the room. Then she flipped in place so fast that she was nearly a blur. She stopped, nose-to-nose with Sansa, and her eyes were absolutely shining when she said, “Of course I want to be with you.”

Sansa let out a relieved laugh. “Oh, thank the gods, I was starting to think I’d massively read into what happened today on the beach.”

“I nearly- you looked-” Margaery shook her head. “You are so brave. I lost my nerve, which is _so_ unlike me.”

“You lost your nerve over me?” Sansa giggled again. “I’m a sure thing, Margaery.”

“I hoped, but I didn’t want to get it wrong and once I got in my head over it, I wondered if you felt you _had_ to-”

“Never, Margaery,” Sansa interrupted. “Trust me on this, okay?”

“I do,” Margaery whispered. She reached out and ran her fingers along Sansa’s cheek, a soft touch that set her skin ablaze. “I mean, I didn’t want to scare you off, either.”

Sansa hummed in question, closing her eyes against the sensation of Margaery’s still stroking hand. 

“Honestly, it scared me at first, too,” Margaery confessed. “And I can’t believe I’m giving him credit and you can _never_ tell him, but Jaime might have helped.”

“I figured this maybe wasn’t a prank, after all,” Sansa agreed. “He was dropping some really obvious hints before we left, at least about how I feel.”

“No, I mean yes, but that’s not-” Margaery sighed. “There was this one night where Jaime was going on about Brienne-”

“-so, like any other night of the week?”

Margaery chuckled. “Yeah.” 

“Sorry, keep going.”

“He told me that he’d looked at his friends Oberyn and Ellaria - _wow,_ I think you’ve earned the right to hear about that, put a pin in it - anyway. Jaime told me that one of the ways he knew that Brienne was for him, is that he looked at her and felt the way he knew Oberyn and Ellaria felt about each other. Does that make sense?”

Sansa nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak, lest she somehow manage to spew out every jangling bell and dazzling star that was suddenly soaring through her brain. She’d hoped that Margaery was willing to try to make something work between them but was she saying-

“I don’t know the Martells, but I know Jaime and Brienne.” Margaery took a sharp breath and held it for a moment, releasing it slowly. “I knew Loras and Renly. And the feeling I get when I’m with you, it’s the same. I know it.”

“Margaery…” It was almost too much. Not in a way that overwhelmed her, but in a way that left Sansa in awe. 

“I love you, too,” Margaery told her, open and frankly, as if it wasn’t blowing Sansa’s mind to smithereens. Sansa knew she couldn’t disguise her reaction and Margaery saw it play out over her face. “You look way too surprised to hear me say that.”

“I figured I’d let you work up to it,” Sansa mumbled, casting her eyes down in embarrassment. 

“Sansa, I’m there.” Margaery waited until Sansa dared look up again. “Trust me, I’m a sure thing, too.”

It was madness. It was more than she could have ever asked for, and Sansa couldn’t hold back once Margaery’s warm brown eyes caught hers. Sansa rushed forward, claiming Margaery’s mouth with her own. 

The sensation of Margaery’s lips at first made the cacophony in her head even louder, something akin to the thrilled screams of a crowd as a rollercoaster careened down its first dive. And then a current of electricity surged through her as Margaery's slender arms wrapped around her shoulders, her grasping hands pulling Sansa in closer as they both parted their lips, deepening the kiss until the crowd was gone and all Sansa could feel, taste and smell was every intoxicating facet that made up Margaery Tyrell. 

Margaery shifted them, so smoothly that Sansa only realized she was on her back when she found herself arching her neck up to follow Margaery’s kiss when she pulled back. 

“This is not… me asking if you…” Margaery sounded out of breath and Sansa grinned at seeing her so flustered. “I know you and Harry-”

“Stupid Harry, never mention him again,” Sansa groaned. She greedily pulled Margaery back in again, kissing her frantically, wrapping her legs around Margaery’s thighs and laughing into her mouth when their silky night clothes made them slide against one another. 

No one had ever kissed her like Margaery did, uninhibited and enthusiastic, not just with her lips, but with her whole body, causing Sansa to break away with a gasp when Margaery rocked their hips together, pressing _so_ close. A thrill of want shot through her and she nearly moaned in despair when Margaery pulled back to breathlessly whisper, “I’m not going to ask if you want this, but have you ever, with-”

Sansa shook her head, trying to clear it. The sooner she did, the sooner they could get back to it, _thank the gods_. “Been with a woman? Not, um, not all the way? Jeyne and I, we- we experimented.” For what had once been a stringently guarded secret, Sansa confessed it easily enough. Then again, it was Jeyne who had been content to label it teenage curiosity and then move onto boys. Sansa hadn’t ever trusted another woman enough to try again. At least, not until Margaery. “Believe me, I have no reservations. _None._ ”

Margaery smiled broadly and Sansa was struck by her beauty, from how her eyes danced, to the perfect slope of her nose, her reddened lips and the way her curls framed her downturned face. Margaery tossed them to the side, settling her hair over one shoulder and said, “Tell me what you want.”

“Everything,” Sansa breathed out. 

She was acknowledged with another kiss and she lifted both her hands to cradle Margaery’s face. When Margaery eased back down, pressing their bodies together, breast to breast, hip to hip, legs entangling, Sansa opened her mouth on a moan and felt Margaery answer in kind. The slide of Margaery’s tongue against hers was as addicting as everything else and Sansa clung to her, unable to let go even when she realized that Margaery was trying to take off her camisole.

“This is lovely, but I need-” Margaery certainly looked like she _needed,_ her eyes had gone vaguely wild. Sansa wondered if she looked the same, but didn’t bother to ask, she merely joined Margaery in grabbing the edges of the fabric to pull it over Sansa’s head. Then she slammed back into the pillow when Margaery made a throaty noise and clamped her lips over Sansa’s breast, taking her nipple in with a hot, wet pull. 

Sansa flailed in response to the shooting sparks that started from Margaery’s mouth and then exploded out everywhere. The godsdamn _lights_ seemed to dim when she felt Margaery bite down and then swirl her tongue against the smarting, tender skin in a mockery of an apology; it had to be, considering Margaery switched to her other breast and did it again, moaning when Sansa cried out. 

Margaery was everywhere, enrapturing, her lips against Sansa’s breasts, her neck, her jaw and then back to her mouth. Sansa felt she could almost drown in the sweet taste of her tongue. It was impossible to find a moment of respite, not that Sansa truly wanted one, but all the things that had seemed overwhelming before now paled in comparison to the feel of Margaery under her hands. Sansa clenched at Margaery’s chemise, grasping at the smooth fabric, rucking it up to find smoother skin beneath. She managed to strip it off Margaery entirely, at the loss of Margaery’s mouth from her breasts. Margaery skimmed downwards, dragged her mouth over Sansa’s stomach, left a biting kiss on her hip bone and looked up with a wicked, teasing look in her eyes. 

Sansa propped up on her elbows just in time to find Margaery completely nude, discarding her underwear with a deceptively nonchalant toss; she may have been trying at calmness, streadiness, but Sansa saw Margaery’s shaking hands, her rough swallow. It made a glorious view from where Sansa lay: Margery’s skin was warmed by the low light of the room, her perfect breasts tipped up into dusky rose nipples - gods, Sansa wanted to fit them in her palms, but she was too far now - the flare of her hips partly hidden by the angle of her body. Sansa wanted to drag her up so that they could be pressed together again, flesh to flesh so she could memorize it all. 

Margaery, it seemed, had other ideas.

“Not all the way, you say?” Margaery smirked and Sansa took in a shuddering breath. Margaery kept their gazes locked as she moved further down in the bed, kissing both of Sansa’s thighs, first close to her knees and then inward, small purposeful kisses that made Sansa automatically pulse her hips up in reply to each one. 

“Tell me,” Margaery repeated, a kiss between every word, “what you want.”

“You,” Sansa pleaded. 

“Tell me,” Margaery insisted again.

“ _Please._ ”

Margaery paused, her breath over the apex of Sansa’s thighs, a challenging look on her face. It nearly brought Sansa to the brink, made her almost desperate enough to wrap her legs up around Margaery’s head and force her down to where she ached and throbbed. Margaery must have seen it, because she brought her hands to Sansa’s thighs, using her palms to firmly spread them wide and back against the mattress. 

“I want to hear you,” Margaery told her and Sansa was gratified to hear the tremor in her voice. “Anything, I just- I need to hear you.”

Sansa jerked her head up and down, involuntarily wiggling her hips once more. “I want you.”

“Yes,” Margaery encouraged, a greedy smile sliding across her face.

“I want your mouth on me,” Sansa tried again. Gods this was so unlike her, but Margaery’s breath quickened, her torso pressing against Sansa’s legs with every shallow, rapid inhalation. It was dizzying to see Margery so undone. “On- on me, on my skin. Your lips and your tongue and your fingers, all of it, you have me so- I can’t take it, Margaery, please-”

“Like this?” Margery dropped her mouth down, bestowing one long flick of her tongue, firm enough to part Sansa’s seam even through the fabric of her underwear. Sansa keened in reply, frustrated when Maragery didn’t repeat it right away. “Was that it? You want my mouth and everything else on your cunt?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Sansa said back. Or, more accurately, screamed back, because she hadn’t finished saying the word and Margaery was already pushing the underwear aside and eating her out with abandon. 

The faint idea of a wild, winding roller coaster was all Sansa could piece together, all the rest of it was wave after wave of pleasure and the desperate need for more. She distantly recognized that her legs were free because Margaery had reared back to remove Sansa’s underwear entirely and then dove back in, using her hands not to hold Sansa down anymore, but to grasp onto Sansa’s breast, to slide a finger and then a pair of fingers into Sansa’s cunt. 

Sansa knew because the words were spilling out of her own mouth, things like _oh gods, there_ and _another, another, please I want more_. Margaery moaned and Sansa shook in reply, feeling as if she was afire from Margaery’s lapping tongue. Despite Margaery’s original teasing, she didn’t hold back once she got started. She used her tongue judiciously, her teeth tauntingly, ran the fingers not deep in Sansa’s cunt over Sansa’s body instead over her belly, down her legs, behind her knees, up close enough to Sansa’s face that Sansa was able to press a panting kiss to Margaery’s palm. Everywhere Margaery’s touch went, Sansa felt her skin was nearly fit to burst and she had to link their hands together to find a port in the euphoric storm. 

Margaery seemed to know, yet again and her gaze flickered up, catching Sansa’s as she pursed her lips around Sansa’s clit, tongue fluttering against it until Sansa babbled _yes, yes, there, please, please, please-_

And then Sansa was lost to it, her body tightening into a rigid coil of pleasure, her hips tilting up, her heels digging into the soft mattress, trying to find anything _, anything_ to help her bear the exquisite torture of Margaery’s ministrations. Her moans and gasping keens filled the air and Margaery didn’t let up, her face moving up and down with Sansa’s spasming hips, making the crest of her orgasm climb higher and higher, until Sansa’s wordless cries turned into hoarse begging, pleading for recess. The small sliver of her mind that remained functional - gods, it was the only way she was still breathing, otherwise she would have forgotten how - couldn’t keep Sansa from toppling backwards, her breaths deep and ragged, her limbs weak and boneless, as Margaery made a slow climb back up the bed. 

Margaery ran her lips over Sansa’s neck, up to her ear and she whispered soft words, all of it nonsense to Sansa’s still rebooting brain. She caught Sansa’s mouth in another kiss and Sansa responded without thought, closing her eyes and adjusting her body so that they could lay together. Sansa stayed on her back, but lifted enough to allow one of Margaery’s arms to slide under her neck; Margaery’s opposite arm and leg hooked over Sansa’s body.

When the hazy cloud finally began to disperse, Sansa became aware of the barely-restrained, hopeful, warm press of Margaery against her hip. Smiling into their kiss, Sansa slid her hand down into the bare space between them, palming and then spreading open Margaery’s soaking wet cunt so she could stroke and then slip her fingers inside. 

They never broke their kiss, but Margaery managed to convey her wishes. When Sansa tried to tease in return, grazing her thumb in slow circles around Margaery’s clit, Margaery pressed down onto Sansa’s hand and groaned hungrily, flexing her hands into Sansa’s hair to show that she wanted more. The smooth slide of Sansa’s fingers became rougher thrusts when Margaery arched her back and then drove her hips down. 

It could never be said that Sansa was a slow learner, not when it came to this.

Knowing what Margaery wanted now, Sansa did exactly as she was asked, applying pressure with her thumb and then the heel of her hand to the bundle of nerves; her fingers pumped in and out, slick and eager to please. 

Margaery didn’t scream, her mouth too busy sharing a messy kiss with Sansa, but her body trembled madly, her breaths stuttered and choked. She clenched her arms tightly around Sansa’s chest, trapping them together. Sansa couldn’t mind it, she knew she never would, not when it meant this: Margaery breaking apart and slowly coming back together, all at Sansa’s hands. 

Eventually, Margaery relaxed enough that there was a scant breadth of air between them. Sansa tilted her head in, resting it against Margaery’s sweaty temple and felt a shiver run through them both. Sweeping her hand out blindly, Sansa grabbed the edge of the rumpled duvet and pulled it over them, shifting in place so that they were facing one another. 

She looked over to see Margaery staring back, her eyes soft and a tenderly playful smile gracing her lips. It was so familiar and it struck Sansa like a lightning bolt; there was no way of containing the giggle that burbled out of her chest. 

“What?” Margaery asked, her smile just as wide and happy.

“You’re my wife,” Sansa reminded her.

Margaery’s eyes went wide and a split second later she joined in Sansa’s laughter, helplessly dropping her head forward. “Oh, gods, you’re my wife, too.”

“We’re on our honeymoon!” Sansa crowed. It induced another fit of giddy laughter and they fell into one another, Sansa’s face on Margaery’s shoulder, Margaery’s face buried in Sansa’s hair. It took awhile for them to catch their breath again and Sansa was wrapped around Margaery when they did. 

“I love you,” Sansa murmured happily. She kissed Margaery’s shoulder and said it again, “I love you and I’m so glad we did this. All of it.”

“So am I,” Margaery said just as quietly. “I’m glad and I love you, too.”

Her body felt heavy and spent; Sansa nuzzled closer into Margaery’s arms. “One of us should probably turn off the light, but I don’t want to let go.”

Margaery made a funny little snorting nose into Sansa’s hair. “Why do we have to turn off the light?”

“Well, how else are we going to sleep?”

She was answered with an even louder snort and, quick as a whip, Sansa was laid out flat on her back yet again. Margaery’s voice was a teasing, taunting, tantalizing promise when she asked, “Who in the world said we were done?”

It caused a deep dip in Sansa’s belly and a tremble of anticipation to run through her from head to toe.

Margaery smiled, sharp and lusty, and suddenly Sansa wasn’t tired anymore. Not in the least.

###### 

Jaime: brienne says if i dont apologize there will be hell to pay

Jaime: still not sorry

…

Jaime: havent heard from you two in a few days. dont make me ask if youre all right. brienne is wondering tho 

…

Jaime: oh so you call brienne but not me. rude.

Jaime: care to guess who also called brienne? your mother in law catelyn who apparently now knows youre family because youre OFFICIAL

Jaime: what the fuck marg i have to hear this from my mortal enemy?

…

Jaime: dont make me get an instagram to keep up with this 

Jaime: brienne keeps laughing at her phone but wont show me

Jaime: this is going too far come on marg 

Jaime: fuck

Jaime: fine im on. follow me back im poddaddy

Jaime: brienne made me change it

Jaime: we compromised on lanntarthfam 

Jaime: sucker. she makes it so easy sometimes

…

 **margaeryty🌹** she is amazing and I am so lucky @sanstarwin#futurelooksbright #wifegoals #rosewolf #lannisgoldresortandspa #honeymoon

❤️ Liked by BrienneKTarth, lanntarthfam and 52529 others

 **lanntarthfam** : you two look happy

 **lanntarthfam** : 🙂

 **lanntarthfam** : ur welcome

…

Jaime: whatthefucjmarg i just got the bill summary what in the hells did you buy over there?????

Jaime: im heading over as soon as you get home pod wants to see you and i want an explanation

Jaime: i know youre home were heading over 

…

Jaime: GOOD GODS POD IS TOO YOUNG TO SEE THAT MARG

Jaime: FOR FUCKSSAKE

Jaime: LOCK YOUR DOORS DAMNIT

Margaery: That is what you get, Jaime Lannister. 

Margaery: That.

Margaery: Is. 

Margaery: What.

Margaery: You. 

Margaery: Get. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not be what it is without the help of Luthien, Slips & Firesign. Thank you so much for your help in editing and in keeping it from Nire until it was ready. <3 (Nire, Slips suggested one line in particular - any guesses as to which?)


End file.
